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LONG    LANCE

on the right path. From out of this medley of
odd sounds we could hear the mares going,
'Wheeeeeh-hagh-hagh-hagh5—calling their little
long-legged sons to their sides that they might
not become lost in the darkness and confusion.

Our boyish hearts began to beat fast when we
heard the first loud 'Yah! Yah! Yah!" We
knew that the herd had now entered the brush
portion of the runway and that our warriors were
jumping up from their hiding-place and showing
themselves with fierce noises, in order to stampede
the horses and send them racing headlong into
our trap.

Immediately there was a loud thunder of patter-
ing hoofs. Horses crying and yelling every-
where, like convulsive human beings in monster
confusion. Above this din of bellowing throats
and hammering feet we heard one loud, full,
deep-chested roar which we all recognized^ and it
gave us boys a slight thrill of fear. It sounded
like a cross between the roar of a lion and the
bellow of an infuriated bull. It was the massive
steel-dust stallion, furious king of the herd. In
our imagination we could see his long silver tail
thrown over his back, his legs lashing wide apart,
and stark murder glistening from the whites of
those terrible eyes. We wondered what he would
do to us if he should call our bluff and crash
through that fence into our midst.

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